


In Hermann’s Mind

by Keirs_Cool



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Autistic Hermann, Bipolar Newt, M/M, Trans Newt, also: shitty mental health, artsy and shit, godddd this is So ramble-y, im projecting mad hard in this one, its pretty much just a train of thought, mental health, they are cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 17:46:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keirs_Cool/pseuds/Keirs_Cool
Summary: Hermann really needs to take a break. His train of thought, almost from his point of view. Might be good idk it’s 12 AM I’m tired possibly





	In Hermann’s Mind

Whenever he walked by the desk, Hermann’s senses flooded with _NewtonNewtonNewtonNewton_...! The scent of chemical preservatives and old leather and the cologne Newton wore from a little collector’s edition kaiju bottle that smelled sweet yet also deep like the taste of black tea with added sugar, light on the surface yet never enough, never too close and never quite fulfilling enough so he kept taking in gulps and gulps of him drowning in the taste or rather the scent or the feeling, his feeling, his presence always in Hermann’s mind, as his thoughts spiraled away from his grasp and into a realm of numbers and facts and checking what was true and what is false and he was there and...

 

He was in his room, Hermann Gottlieb, sitting at his desk in his house back in Germany. The desk was painted black and made of wood that he could smell only when he was really close to it. His bed was made and the corners were all tucked in the sides of the mattress which was the Right way, but it was dark outside and the light in his room made the atmosphere feel stale and the edge of his jacket sleeve was Wrong and his father had yelled at him again for being ‘rude’ to his aunt over the phone even though he wasn’t trying to, and this was all building up in his head as he stripped down to his underclothes and tried to rub the feeling off of his skin. He couldn’t open the letter that Dr. Geiszler sent him until the feelings were off, so he did breathing and ended up showering and dried his hands on the display towels to spite his father and then, then he could open the letter oh so delicately,- he made sure to hum how he would say that because he did that whenever he opened Newt’s letters- and the paper Newt wrote on was the good, crisp, white paper that he loved. Newt signed the end of his letter with ‘Sincerely’ even though he had clearly imprinted the word ‘love’ on the paper on purpose using that technique the people on television sent secret messages on hotel notepads with. Hermann folded the paper on the creases and brushed his lips on the edge of the letter. His face flushed from the silliness, the immaturity of the act, but he inhaled through his nose slowly as he did it, savoring the moment.

 

And Hermann was back, pulling himself to the present, raising his eyebrows as he caught up with the moment. He was at his desk, his reports were due, his eyesight was shit. Turning away from the desk, Hermann grabbed his cane and paced over to the chalkboard. His internal monologue spun in German and English but mostly in Maths as he climbed his ladder and imprinted his train of thought in white chalk that scored the expanse of the chalkboard. He reached across the board, sliding the ladder to the left to start a new line of functions, plugging in the numbers that merged and meshed in his brain all the time, it was like this _all_ _the_ _time_ , and with numbers it made sense like it never did with people, people who abandoned him and left him in his mind to fend for himself, and let him turn bitter towards anyone who tried to help, and the streaks of chalk raced across the board until the piece he was using was too small to salvage.

 

“Dude, are you crying?”

Hermann, panting, let himself climb down that ladder. He leaned his back against the wooden rungs. His mind was dark greystatic with spiral swirls and it was dripping like melting wax, covering him and solidifying and—

 

“Hey.” Newt. Warm. Newton who was loud and squeaky and yelled _with_ him, not at him. Newton who was just as lost in the sea of people and monsters, who knew that sometimes the people were the monsters, and that no wall could hold up forever, and that it was their job, together, to fight back and survive, always. Newton Geiszler, who was the other side of the same mind.

“Earth to Hermann, Hermann, come in.”

Newt waved his hand right outside of Hermann’s space, waiting for a response.

“Newton, my apologies. This– this was unprofessional of me, I should deal with this in my own time, very sorry-“

“Hermann, you know I’m not a dumbass, right? Tell me you know I’m not a dumbass. Go on, say it. Say it.”

Hermann sighed, leaning back on his ladder. “Newton, you are not a dumbass. I assume you are going to lecture—”

“Lecture you on your mental health? Dude, I’m not a hypocrite, that’s not remotely my place to judge. T-b-h, just so you know, I, uh, I haven’t checked in with my health insurance in a while, even though I’m running low on T, because it also covers my meds, and I think I work better when I’m manic, which is completely stupid and I really— I need help. Damn. There, I said that out loud. Now you get to say your shit out loud. No judging, see?”

Hermann shifted. “I... I admit, I have been working myself too hard lately, and...” His gaze fluttered across the grated floor as he took a deep breath.

“And I have been driving myself on the verge of- of a meltdown recently, because of the war and my work and...everything, and I might’ve convinced myself since I was young that I didn’t need... friends, or social...interaction, that the only thing that can comfort me is my work, but I suppose it is not too far off to say I have been...lonely, Newton.” His confession resonated in the silence of the lab, but it had finally left the space inside his head, finally. There was only understanding in each of them, acceptance, imperfection that was naturaland real but not inherent in their existence, rather a choice that they had decided to follow and would not let themselves abandon. In a world without the war, there would still be arguments and work and all of that, and it would not be perfect because they could not be perfect and still be themselves-

-Hermann shut down his mind. Let his thoughts dissolve in the atmosphere, still there, yet silenced for the moment. His free hand brushed against the scratchy stubble on Newt’s face. Newt looked up, nodding his head into Hermann’s touch, leaning in to rest against him. He knew that Hermann didn’t like arms around him when he‘s stressed. Hermann knew that stroking Newton’s hair soothed him. Hermann didn’t know for sure that pressing a kiss to the corner of Newton’s temple would do the same, but he decided to take a leap of faith on that one. They sat like that, together, in silence.

 

 


End file.
